Starlight
by Thefreakoutsideyourwindow
Summary: Alfred knew he was a dead man. He knew it the very moment his commanding officer's brain was blown up and what little remains of it flecked onto the walls surrounding them. (Oneshot, violence, character death).


**Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own writing, and certainly not the minor Monty Python mention that happens near the end.**

 **A/N: Guess who disappeared off the face of the earth? Aha..hah...ha... Anyway, the very first line was given to me by this wonderful first line generator writingexercises . co . uk / firstlinegenerator .php which was "He knew he must keep very still while he waited" Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

He knew he must keep very still while he waited, that was a certainty in this time of chaos. Alarms blaring, warning lights flashing for a cause long lost, comrades gurgling and choking out their final breaths through blood a little too light to be red.

Alfred knew he was a dead man.

If fact, he knew it the moment his commanding officer was giving a speech, the fragment of a sentence "due to your noble work..." repeated a couple times in anxiety (he never really liked crowds anyway, the poor guy) before the left side of his head had exploded from a concentrated ray of plasma and was splattered over the once champagne wall papers of the executive dining area, used only for parties and special occasions.

Cue screaming.

Before he had known what else to do, he and his squad were flipping over tables and taking cover, bringing their weapons out of their decorative holsters for the ceremony and firing at whoever was attacking them now. They were soldiers, they had seen war, lived war, hell, at times they even breathed it. But their war was out in the open space with specialist technology and protective gear instead of using their dead friends as meagre meat shields against whatever was attacking them. Never mind the upper class civilians who had attended the event to be re-united with relatives and friends only to be shot down in a mess of gore and diamonds.

Thirty minutes in and they had finally identified the raiders that had somehow, Gods know how, managed to breach their security system, _Naraxians_ through and through, their dusty red skin which typically fitted in seamlessly with the red earth of the planet they fought so fiercely to defend was now only slightly off as it was soaked in blood of the rich, deep hues of different races.

Alfred had joined at the birth of the empire as it rapidly started snowballing into more and more power, greedily devouring whole solar systems and trapping them underneath its metallic belt. The fleet of _Oraismus_ was an impressive one to say the least, though no known empires ever achieved such positions through noble and righteous acts. He knew that not everything they did would be pure and fair, that much Alfred understood. He wasn't stupid (in spite of what his comrades would continuously debate over) but he was ignorant for the good of his own people, for the good of his own sanity.

Thundering footsteps of heavy duty boots clomped down the metal hallways in a rhythmic fashion, as if the owner of such said footwear had a limp, and the near silent _sshhhhssk shhhhssk_ of fabric followed quickly after, oft accompanied by a muffled moan.

Deciding here was as good a place as any to stop (they were all dead anyway, what did it matter?), Alfred carefully eased Matthias down with the care that one only does around newborns, the severely wounded, and the dying. His friend sadly slotted quite well into the latter, his deep belly wound allowing dark red blood to soak up the once cream fabric of their finest dress suit. In the chaos, all Alfred could do was hold his hand with an unwavering grip and pray that his death came swiftly.

"Hey...Al." A whisper so faint only caught his attention due to his frayed nerves and the adrenaline high that would probably be his last due to the crap-hole that his life had suddenly been plunged into, that all of theirs had been plunged into. He forced his attention away from the current situation and instead to the glassy eyes of his friend, of his...dying friend. He hadn't spared much thought to the situation, instead merely going through the motions, acting as a soldier, acting as he should. Maybe it was the gravity of the situation finally getting to him, maybe it was the fact that Matthias' grip on his hand was slowly getting weaker, or maybe it was even the fact that they were suddenly cast into the deep red light of the emergency power supply as their ship began to deteriorate and would soon be nothing but a scrap of metal in deep space.

Whatever it was, he couldn't stop himself from crying after the first shuddering sob left his lips. He wanted to be angry at himself for crying in such a dire situation that he couldn't even give his dying friend the attention he deserved, which was probably why his next words his him full force and nearly sent him reeling in anguish.

"Hey, Al...buddy. No need-" a wheezy cough was followed by a harsh swallow before he continued, "No need to get so upset now, eh? How did that line in that movie go...just a flesh wound?" Alfred gave out a small chuckle while Matthias gave his own wheezy laugh at his joke, the light in his eyes fading faster with each passing second.

Matthias swallowed once more before continuing, "We all knew our deaths wouldn't be pretty...at least we won't be eaten and shit out by some hulking creature on a far off distant planet." A beat of silence followed. No laughter, no mirth, merely the acknowledgement that they would die here and there was nothing they could do to stop it. Matthias paused, clenching and unclenching his cool hands around Al's shaking ones before murmuring thoughtfully, hopefully, "I wonder if Lukas got my message..."

A snort followed by a sniffle escaped Alfred beside him before he asked, "Wasn't that the guy you made a thousand dick jokes to and you got upset when he didn't like your valentines card?"

"Hey! Moustaches are sexy!" was the answer that was quipped back, allowing the two to laugh carelessly before falling silent once more.

"...Hey." The more serious tone seemed to usher in the _sshhh_ of an invisible hourglass resting upon each others heads but, despite his fear, Alfred turned to the pallid and serious face of Matthias and listened.

"When you get out of this mess, and you will since your sheer dumb luck is limitless, tell Lukas to open his birthday present early, will ya?"

Alfred may have been a hopeless romantic and a hopeless believer, but he knew when something was impossible, and the delusion in Matthias' voice, in his belief for his and Lukas' future together was just so potent it made his eyes tear up once more and his throat tighten. But now was not a time for rejection and the crushing of beliefs. So instead, Alfred brought their clasped hands up in a victory stance before forcing out a hushed, "Sure thing, Matthias, sure thing."

He stayed like that, long after Matthias' grip waned, long after his breathing halted and his skin grew cold. He had no reason to move, anyway. Nothing to get up for. He could hear gunfire in the distance but what did he care? They were all dead men walking anyway, and senseless fighting was not something he wanted in his brief period of mourning.

So, as the alarms blared and lights flashed, Alfred sat, contended and accepting of his death, as the ship hummed and creaked under the heavy fire from ships outside. And when the hull was breached and the ship was ripped open, starlight burst forth into his vision and Alfred, 19 years of age and of Private rank, let his friend, his life and everything he was go as he was pulled out into the deep cosmos beyond that no one could ever hope to conquer.

After all, true stars deserve nothing short of awe and admiration.


End file.
